Holding Tight
by Jegrde
Summary: Tragic news leaves Reid unraveling right before a case review. Derek is fast on his heels when the genius flees the scene. Read as friendship or more. Minor character death. Beware the feels! Oneshot - Now a Twoshot. JEG
1. Chapter 1

**Holding Tight **

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><p><strong>Notes:<strong>

I do not claim the series or it's content

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><p><strong>"I'm terribly sorry Spencer…"<strong>

The words echoed in his head as he tried to process what he had heard. The cell phone he was holding to his ear inched away, his arm slacking. His eyes quivered a small distance back and forth as he only saw the thoughts running through his mind. He was trying to catch up to all the information he received, none he wanted to hear, and all in a matter of seconds.

There had been an _accident_. That's how these things always happened. That was always the excuse, a way for someone to avoid complicated details. There was always _someone, somewhere _that would cause or prompt such events. It seemed for some reason calling it an accident should make it easier to swallow, but it didn't. It still got stuck in his throat, still choked him, and upset his stomach.

He could feel his heart sinking, the deep and quivering breath matching the hard thump of his chest. There was a moment he didn't inhale, but once he had, the world continued to move around him. The muffled voices of conversations from behind and the small chatter ahead all came to life in seconds.

He could hear Rossi and Prentiss making jabbing remarks about something that seemed irrelevant. "Reid, meeting," he heard Hotch as he quickly passed the now still standing genius in the hall. Aaron hustled forward at a speed that seemed impossible for Spencer. He hadn't even looked back as he entered the room ahead, at least, not until he followed the quizzical eyes of the others out the door.

**"Reid?"**

Why did everything suddenly sound like it was vibrating in baritone? His mouth opened to respond, but he was only able to make a syllable before he realized he hadn't meant to say anything at all. He stared back at the pair of eyes all _conveniently_ focused on him. He could tell some were curious as to why he was standing, like a fool, in the entrance. He couldn't answer them even when the droning of his phone was telling him to hang up.

His attention shifted to the open cell, his actions feeling as if in slow motion. He brought his free, shaking hand up, and closed the flip phone with all his strength. He cradled the device in his hands for a second before simply holding it with one. He looked from the phone to the group looking expectantly back at him.

_"I…"_

_"Its… my…"_

_"…"_

_Mother... _

_She's gone._

It was as if trying to tell the team brought reality crashing through. He hadn't believed it at first, being so sudden and so unexpected. _His mother was gone_. The one he had sent away when he was younger and the one he rarely went to visit. The letters he wrote to her, he knew they were never enough, they weren't the same as a warm hug. They couldn't kiss her on the top of the head and express how much she _meant_ to him, how much he really did love her. Did she know he loved her? _Oh god_, he hoped she did. There wasn't a day that went by without the tender thoughts of his respective family. Just the two of them against the world. That's how it should have been. It's how it should have stayed.

_He was alone now._

There would be _no one _to visit on the holidays, on Christmas when he'd go stay in the homey hospital and pretend it was just like home. _No one _would receive the stories he had to tell or concerns he might have in his scribbled writing. There would be _no one_ to call and check on at the end of his day. _No one _would love him as much as she had or tell him that he was perfection when he didn't believe it himself. There would be _no one _to give him courage when his job showed all the ugly in the world, because she would be gone. _She wouldn't be there anymore._

A strangled whine escaped him. It was the only warning he gave before turning on his heel and storming in the opposite direction. It had sounded awful to his own ears as he tried to control uneven breathing. The action seemed in the nick of time as he turned his back, his eyes were filling with _hot, stinging, tears._

He had to find somewhere _no one_ could see him or hear him. He needed to _breathe_, to be _alone_ and pull himself together. He couldn't cry in front of people, his pride wouldn't allow him. He hurried in his frantic flight mode, something hunting him as he jogged.

**"Reid!"**

_Go away. Please, go away._

He heard Derek call out to him a second time and he changed his escape route from the elevator. By the time the doors opened for him, Derek would be too close for comfort and force him into a corner. He didn't want _anyone_ near him. He just wanted to grieve. The bathroom was his second chance, he would have had to circle back to the stairs without running into Morgan if not.

He hit the door nearly running full speed, the barrier giving way instantly and swinging open. Quickly, he tried to shut the door and lock it, not looking to see if there was anyone else inside. Two seconds too late and Morgan's weight was pressing in protest to fully closing the only barricade he had. He wasn't a match for Derek pressing the door slowly open, a foot wedged, until Spencer coiled away at a loss.

He was being cornered again, like Morgan always did to him with overwhelming and unnecessary concern.

His voice echoed in the bathroom when he tried to pry Reid's attention from the sink he was leaning over. He could see the white knuckles that a hand clutched to the counter with, the other around his stomach as it fisted his shirt. In the mirror he could see the tightly pressed eyes hiding behind bangs and the mourning expression he was holding best he could inside.

Morgan's stomach twisted with Reid's. His heart ached at seeing him unnerved and hurt right in front of him and still trying to run away. _It hurt _that Reid wouldn't turn to him, that he wouldn't tell him what was wrong, what he was upset about. That maybe he wasn't trusted enough to be put higher priority over pride. He was so_ hurt_, but it was all forgiven in a second.

All it took was a strong and firm hand on his shoulder and Reid was sinking to the floor fast. Derek quickly reached out and wrapped his arms around the genius, helping his weakened knees ease the descend. He felt the silent quiver of sobs he refused to voice, the slowly, but surely coaxing of support as Reid grabbed and hugged his shirt's fabric. The way Reid eventually leaned on him, head buried in his shoulder, wet tear stains leaving it's mark.

"Hey, hey, hey…" he whispered and soothed, his one hand keeping Reid in his lap and the other rubbing circles up and down his spine. "It's okay Pretty-boy, _it's okay… I got you_… it's okay," he hushed and held him tightly for fear he'd pull away.

**It wasn't okay**, _nor was it going to be okay_. He wanted to shout it out at the oblivious Derek in frustration. **He was upset**, _it wasn't fair_. He clutched his fist, face forehead deep into the shoulder trying to muffle the noise. Morgan didn't understand. His mother was **dead**_, never coming back. _Derek wouldn't listen to his newly found sobs and unspoken thought. **Stupid Derek**. _Stupid, stupid Derek._

His crying was wavering, exhaustion from trying to hold himself back proving an obstacle. He whimpered in defeat as he just sat in Morgan's arms. He had won. He had seen 'Pretty-boy, genius' all in a mess. He hoped he was happy now.

**"Get out, we're busy!"**

Derek's suddenly harsh and aggressive voice startled him, making him inch away and open his eyes for the first time since Morgan had invaded his space. Over his shoulder he saw the fleeing figure of someone he wasn't previously aware of. Emotion welled in him and he instinctively curled around Derek to let out one last desperate sob.

Moments had passed before anything registered. There wasn't a cold floor underneath him, Derek's own limbs providing a resting spot, they must have fallen asleep by now. He felt guilty for soiling the majority of his shirt with his fluids, but strangely not as embarrassed as he thought he would have.

He stayed like that for a while. How long he wasn't sure, but his fingers eventually eased from gripping and holding on for dear life. Only when he was good and tired did he feel Derek's cheek against the top of his head. His lips brushed just over his ear to reassure him with words softly spoken and the gentle caressing on his back that could have worn right through the clothing for the countless patterns it made.

For the moment, he really did feel like it would be okay.


	2. Chapter 2

**Holding Tight **

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><p><strong>Notes:<strong>

I do not claim the series or it's content.

For those that wanted a little extra, I have this, although I'm not sure if I like it or not. This is likely the only addition I'll ever do for this and that if I later feel like it, might remove it altogether from this story to make it once again a one shot. For now, here you go.

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><p>Reid slept on the plane ride home, his head nestled in the crook of the cushions, knees curled up and feet tucked under a warm weight. The four seating lounge along the wall of the aircraft provided only a mildly comfortable sleeping spot. None the less, the genius slept, his closest friend at his toes.<p>

Derek was equally knocked out and snoring beside him, his body up right and resting against the arm rest. He didn't mind it when Reid had suddenly splayed out on the seat to nap, or even when his feet wiggled their way under his rear to sooth frozen stubs. He could only smirk and nod off after the doctor, both minds a ease.

It had been a little over two years now since Reid had gotten that one phone call. The most _horrific_ moment in Derek's life, chasing the doctor into the men's bathroom and holding him tightly while he unravelled. _He swore_, before even knowing what had caused the goofy little genius to shatter so rapidly, that he'd never have to witness it again.

Reid had fallen asleep in his arms on the bathroom floor that evening. Lifting him up on numb legs and carrying him to his car was a struggle. On lookers met his sturdy glares as he shuffled out the office, the team wordlessly following to make sure they both got to the vehicle. The case had to go on, Derek staying behind as the team went in flight mode shortly after he left.

Reid had clung to him the whole time, Derek forcing the dazed man into a seatbelt as he brought him home. He had put him into bed and fell asleep beside the genius as morning rolled about and drew into evening. He made Reid confess later, that his mother was announced deceased, over a pile of sweet syrupy pancakes.

There were times that Reid would call Derek at three in the morning on a _weekend_, sobbing words filling the ear piece. Derek would flick on a light and reply out words to calm down the younger doctor before slipping a pair of shoes on and driving over to his place. They'd stay up all night keeping his mind off the loneliness. Those days came less and fewer between as the months passed.

The things that Reid thought he'd lost along with his mother were not all gone. He missed her sometimes, but he was lucky, there was always Derek watching out for him and it made it easier.

On Christmas, he'd always be dragged off with Derek to his family's place. There'd be a tree, hot chocolate and lattes, singing and dancing, and of course there was laughter. Everyone had a smile on their face, they made him feel at home, like he was part of the family. They'd go to Christmas plays the night before and then stay up all night to exchange gifts with secret Santa. _All the sisters loved it when he came over. _Maybe a little more than what Derek would have prefered.

His nicknames slowly started to increase too, from "Prettyboy" and "Kid" to "Einstein" and "Ace". It wasn't the same as his mother's pep talks or flattering words, but it gave him that loved feeling all the same. His coworkers would even tease him while he worked to help relax his mind, distracting him and making his thoughts recollect to accomplish a tough puzzle. It helped him face the next challenge in the game they played.

Sometimes he'd write to his mother; he'd write how his life was going and the latest rash thing Derek had done to catch an unsub. He'd write about how he now had a goldfish named Digger. A rather interesting name Derek had picked out for him. It was meant for _Gold Digger_, the poor goldfish had no idea. He named it Digger for short as a compromise.

Each time that his desk would gather full of his letters, he and Derek would take the weekend and go visit his mother's resting place. Reid would kneel down in front of her stone, Derek waiting for him to read his letters at a distance. _Occasionally_ Prentiss or Garcia would tag along and together they'd get coffee to lighten the mood once finished. Some times he'd write notes to Derek too, although he'd argue that doctors have the worst hand writing, he'd always get a letter back the next day.

_Slowly, his life which he thought would be empty, slowly filled back up._


End file.
